


Gotta Say (Today Was A Good Day)

by saltandbyrne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cars, Fluff, Kissing, Los Angeles, M/M, Off-screen Relationship(s), Rare Pairing, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-30
Updated: 2012-07-30
Packaged: 2017-11-11 02:23:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltandbyrne/pseuds/saltandbyrne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Victor shows Dean his hometown, complete with chicken, waffles and muscle cars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gotta Say (Today Was A Good Day)

Of all the places Dean expected to find himself in after he'd screwed the devil and narrowly avoided hell, sprawled across a motel room bed in the shitty part of Hollywood wasn't one of them.

 

Well, the motel room wasn't really such a surprise. But sprawled on a motel room bed with former Special Agent Victor Henriksen on top of him? Dean would've bet his car that  _that_  shit would never happen.

 

But a lot of things had changed. Beating Lilith had been an ugly business, and there was no way Dean and Sam could have done it without Victor. Well, fine, the blue-eyed feathery nerd angel who'd shown up out of fucking nowhere had helped too (apparently God gave a shit about Dean Winchester; the feeling wasn't mutual). But Victor was a natural-born hunter if Dean had ever met one - he'd just been hunting the wrong shit.

 

It wasn't a single, lightning-bolt moment that had brought them together. They'd worked side by side for months before anything happened. And even then it was just little things, a slow slide into companionship. And fine, Sam's old-lady bitchface meddling had probably helped. When he wasn't making puppy eyes at angel-face he was practically shoving Dean and Victor together.

 

Apparently Sam and Dean couldn't do anything separately, including batting for the other team out of left field.

 

And they'd all settled into something ... well, nice was never the word for any hunter's life, but the four of them were about as close as they could get. Sometimes they hunted together, sometimes they split up. Sam and Cas had even gotten their own car, something sensible with good gas mileage that made Dean want to barf.

 

There was the whole war in heaven pending apocalypse thing going on, yeah, but when the fuck wasn't the world ending?

 

Right now, Dean's getting pulled out of bed by the gorgeous (and  _built_ , jesus christ that fed suit had been hiding a masterpiece) man who'd just fucked him sideways and was now apparently taking him someplace that served fried chicken and waffles. Together.

 

The apocalypse could just fucking wait.

 

Dean didn't like big cities, but he'd dragged Victor halfway across the country for pie so he figured he owed it to his whatever-the-fuck Victor was to come along and take a tour of his home town.

 

Dean blinks at the relentless sun in his eyes as he rolls down Pico, Victor giving him directions until they arrive at Roscoe's House of Chicken 'n Waffles.

 

"Dude, I still don't get it. I like fried chicken. I like waffles. But I've never said, gee, you know what would be good? Fried chicken on a waffle."

 

Dean pulls into the parking lot and parks under the giant Pitbull Energy Drink sign.

 

"You shut your mouth before my mama comes back from the grave and smacks you upside the head. Roscoe's is an institution. You don't know what you've been missing."

 

Victor rolls his eyes and gives Dean's hand a quick squeeze before he gets out of the car. That's the biggest piece of PDA Dean's gotten since they'd rolled onto Victor's home turf. Dean got it. He wasn't exactly the flag-waving let's get big gay married type either.

 

And Dean gets to chuckle to himself every time Victor introduces Dean as his new partner. If the waitresses, all of whom have apparently banged Victor at some point based on the raised eyebrows and suggestive smiles they give him, think he's a fed working with the old neighborhood hottie, good for them.

 

"I'll take a Scoe's #1, Vanessa, and how's your mama doing?"

 

Vanessa smiles and updates Victor on her family. Dean is apparently invisible, working harder than he's ever had to with a waitress just to tell her he'll have the same thing as Victor. Dean gets it. Victor's smile is pretty damn distracting.

 

That smile fucking beams at him as Vanessa returns with two plates laden with a mountain of fried chicken, waffles and an ice cream scoop of butter on top.

 

Dean raises an eyebrow and tucks in, moaning a few seconds later with a noise that thankfully only Victor knows is reserved for blowjobs and spectacularly good junk food.

 

Victor is a fucking angel, and Dean almost licks his plate clean as Victor leans back and watches him.

"Told you."

 

Dean is too busy recovering from his second post-orgasmic haze of the morning to say anything snarky.

*

Victor insists on playing Ice Cube as they drive around his old neighborhood.

 

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, driver picks the music, piehole, blah blah blah … But there is no way your freckled ass is driving me around south central while we blast fucking Kansas.”

 

“It's cakehole...” Dean mutters as Victor pops a tape in. Victor had this habit of mangling Dean's totally clever catchphrases that would be annoying if it weren't so cute. Dean has to laugh as he realizes that he just thought of the man who spent the better part of a year trying to get him behind bars as “cute.” But anyone who was dedicated enough to raid a thrift store for a stash of gangsta rap cassette tapes so Dean wouldn't have to suffer the indignity of an ipod in his car was, frankly, pretty fucking cute.

 

And despite his grumbling, Dean has to admit that the music is perfect. As they make their way down Washington, Dean looks at the foreclosed houses and modest churches and feels oddly at home. Some blocks look like war zones, just to have the next one look like suburban anywhere, with families outside having barbecues and kids running through sprinklers. It felt like a community, albeit one that was struggling to hang on, and Dean could relate to that.

 

Although they came from vastly different places, Dean and Victor had a lot more in common with each other than they didn't. Tough dads who pushed them into careers that most people would run from, a life that made stable relationships almost impossible, a commitment to justice and seeing things through that left room for little else – it was hardly a miracle that they felt at home in each other's company.

 

“Got something I wanna show you,” Victor tells him as they pull into the driveway of a small house.

 

Victor opens the garage, which is locked up like Alcatraz so Dean knows there's something good inside. Victor didn't talk about his childhood much, and Dean wasn't gonna push him. It said enough that he'd wanted to stay in a motel clear on the other side of town instead of staying in the house that, as far as Dean could tell, Victor owned.

 

Victor closes the garage door behind them and flicks on the lights. “Now I've spent a lot of time in your Baby, so I thought it was time you met my Honey.”

 

Dean feels a huge grin breaking out on his face as Victor pulls the cover off the second hottest car Dean has ever seen. If Baby ever left Dean to have a torrid lesbo affair with another car, it would surely be this one.

 

“Dude … You have a General Lee?” Dean slowly approaches the gleaming red Dodge, hands out in front of him like it might bite.

 

“Shhh, Honey, don't listen to this crazy man,” Victor plants a hand on either side of the hood's Ramchargers like he's covering her ears. Those forward-facing scoops may or may not be giving Dean kind of a boner as he watches Victor caress them lovingly.

 

“This is not a motherfucking Charger, Dean.” Victor removes his hands from the hood and points to the small medallion between the twin-looped front bumper that Dean can only think of as a gorgeous rack.

 

“Super Bee,” Dean smiles. “1970? Well, fuck me...” Dean looks to Victor for permission before he lays a hand on her.

 

“I've never seen one of these, not even at Bobby's...” Dean runs his hands over the grille reverently. Of course Victor has a muscle car.

 

“They weren't very popular, but my dad loved her like a daughter.” He could certainly relate. Chalk that up to one more thing they had in common. Sam was gonna shit himself when he heard this.

 

Dean bites his lip as he walks around to inspect the gorgeous ass on Victor's Honey. The black striping on her is perfect, like putting a bikini on a hot chick – little bit of tease to make it that much more tempting to see what's underneath.

 

“I try to get out to visit her every six months or so. My cousin stops by to check on her.” Victor smiles like a proud parent as Dean makes his way around the car.

 

Dean circles back around to the hood, pulling Victor in to his side. “Think I could see her without her top on?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

 

Victor leans into him, chest pressing against his as his lips ghost over Dean's. Dean closes his eyes for a kiss, just to have Victor pull away at the last second. “Of course, saved the best for last.” Fucking tease.

 

Victor pops the hood and steps back as Dean leans in. “Oh, you gorgeous thing...” Dean sighs out, taking in the glorious sight of a meticulously-maintained work of art.

 

“Original 426 Hemi, my dad payed extra for that.” Victor comes around behind Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist as Dean leans back into him. “Know what they used to call those?”

 

Dean does, obviously, but he really, really wants to hear Victor say it out loud. “What's that, now?”

 

“A deep guzzling hemi,” Victor purrs out against his neck, voice even lower and sexier than usual, and this is a guy who orders pancakes in a smooth growl that makes Dean weak in the knees.

 

“Are you trying to get me hard?” Dean asks him, turning around to face him. “Cause you're doing a really good job,” pressing himself close so Victor can bask in his success.

 

They kiss like that for who knows how long, Victor finally breaking off while Dean tries to envision the mechanics of boning in a coupe, because there is no way they are  _not_  fucking in this car.

 

“Wanna take her for a spin?” Fine, there's no way they aren't fucking in this car  _after_  they take her out.

 

They park Baby in her place and take Honey all the way up to the Hollywood sign. It's corny and cheesy and so fucking LA that both of them roll their eyes.

 

And later, when Dean's eyes roll into the back of his head after they work out the mechanics of getting two grown men into the back seat of a coupe just fine, Dean thinks that it's just one more place he never thought he'd end up.

 

But he's perfectly happy to be there.  
  
Errata:  
[This is a Super Bee](http://www.seriouswheels.com/1970-1979/1970-Dodge-Super-Bee-red.htm). I want one.  
[Roscoe's](http://www.roscoeschickenandwaffles.com/) is where I will be eating my last meal on earth. Site has music FYI.  
[Ice Cube](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWfbGGZE07M) provided the title.  Thanks, Mr. Cube!

  


 


End file.
